


Spring Fling

by beeyouteaful



Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-28
Updated: 2013-10-28
Packaged: 2017-12-30 17:08:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1021242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beeyouteaful/pseuds/beeyouteaful
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom calls with a surprise for you. Says you'll love it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spring Fling

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my first work on AO3, and I have no beta, so hopefully you don't find too many errors. Enjoy.

You’re lounging on the sofa in his flat. He’s in a meeting with someone from work, and you have the day off. It’s Wednesday, and you called in sick. It’s not technically a lie. You’re love sick, as cheesy as that sounds.

You’ve been dating Tom for a few months now and chuckle to yourself as you remember how you met.

_It was a chilly, October evening. You wore your frumpy, yellow sweater with an orange and green scarf, and were on your way home from work. You thought maybe you could stop in a pub on the way. Nothing too heavy; only one drink. Maybe something with a little pumpkin flavouring in it._

_And you did stop—the pumpkin thing was definitely enough to draw you in._

_As you entered the almost empty pub, you chose a seat at the almost empty bar. You politely asked the bartender what he’d recommend. Then, only once you’d heard all of his options, asked for anything at all with pumpkin in it. While waiting, you watched the bartender mix your specialty drink, not noticing the tall, slender man who took the seat next to yours. The bartender handed you your drink and immediately asked the man what he’d like._

_“I’ll have what she’s having,” he said. His voice was familiar. It was silky and somewhat deep, and it melted through your ears and into your head like fondue. You peered at him, eyes wide at the realization of just who was sitting next to you. You exchanged polite smiles and he complimented your scarf. You blushed and complimented his short, blond curls._

_“My name's Tom. Tom Hiddleston.” You introduced yourself as well, leaving out that you already knew who he was._

_Inside, you were freaking out more than usual. Obviously. The two of you made small talk and shared laughs. “This is really good,” he said, as he sipped his drink again. It seemed that he hadn't noticed your silent freak out because he asked you for your number._

_And of course you gave it willingly. Your heart thumped so loud in your chest, he could probably hear it._

_He told you that he’d call you soon, and he dove out of the small pub, leaving you to sit alone at the bar once more._

_You soon realised that you forgot to get his number._ Stupid, stupid, _you thought to yourself as you downed the rest of your drink. You paid your tab and then hailed a taxi back home._

 

 

_Tom didn’t call for days. Days. You were actually deteriorating into nothingness... Or so you thought. You argued with yourself constantly over the possibilities of what could have happened._

_What if he lost your number? No, not possible. You wrote it on his hand. But it could’ve washed off in the shower or something!_

_What if he noticed you acting weird around him and realized you were a fan? But then why did he even ask for it in the first place?_

_What if something bad happened to him after you two met?_

_You kept arguing with yourself, not noticing until about three rings in that your phone was indeed ringing. You fumbled it in your hands as you quickly tried to answer. You managed to do so before he got your voicemail._

_And that was the start of something beautiful._

You chuckle to yourself as you lift your mug of tea to your lips. You had eventually told him that you knew who he was when you met. He'd admitted that he knew by the expressions on your face, but he thought the way you blushed was so cute, and he threw caution to the wind.

Once your tea is finished, you set the mug on the kitchen counter and lie down on the sofa. You flick the television on and surf the channels until you find something suitable to watch.

Even if it is suitable, it's rather boring, and after a while, your eyelids feel heavy, and you drift to sleep.

 

 

You wake up to your phone ringing on the coffee table. It’s Tom’s ringtone. You smile to yourself at the fact that he recorded it himself, just for you.

“Hello, Mr. Hiddleston,” You answer, grinning to yourself. He chuckles on the other end.

“Hello, love. I’ve just got free tickets to something I think you’ll enjoy,” the last word is drawn out in a singsong voice.

“Oh?” You ask, “And what is that?”

“It’s a surprise. I love you. See you soon.” The line goes quiet, and you sit up. You think of what he could have possibly gotten tickets for. It’s not a film, you tell yourself. Probably not a play. So what, then?

But how should you dress? Why hadn't he given any more information? He's  hiding something for sure.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the unlocking of the front door. You look behind you, and the tall, slender figure that you call your boyfriend enters. You grin and greet him, and he leans down and kisses your cheek.

You still blush when he kisses you.

You can’t believe he chose you, even after all this time. He rips you from your thoughts again as he lifts you up from the sofa to your feet.

“We’ve got to get ready. The surprise is soon,” he grins, pulling you both to the bedroom to change. You choose a nice, flowery blouse and leggings. He dons a button down shirt tucked into a dark pair of his own jeans. He joins you in front of the mirror, his chest to your back. He kisses the top of your head lightly. “You look beautiful.”

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” you tease. Tom grabs your coats and leads you out the door. He opens the car door for you.

“Milady,” he jokes. Chivalry certainly is not dead to a man like this. He shuts the door after you settle and saunters around to the driver’s side.

You look out the window pensively as you make your way to wherever it is Tom’s taking you. The glistening city suddenly turns to country as you speed down the road. You look to Tom, who is concentrating on the road. He glances at you and gives you a grin, and you return the gesture and turn back to your road-side view.

It takes roughly an hour to get to your destination. You’re sitting in a line of cars in front of an auditorium. Once you get to the front of the line, the security officer hands Tom a parking voucher and then you find a spot.

You both get out of the car, and he opens the trunk, taking out a blanket and a basket. Then he takes your hand in his.

“What is this, Tom?” you ask.

He grins and replies, “I told you it’s a surprise.”

Once the two of you reach the gates, Tom pulls out two tickets. He leads you into a beautiful outdoor sitting area, and then climbs the stairs to the top of the hill. Once at the top, you look out to the auditorium. It’s completely open-air and lovelier than anything else you thought you'd be doing tonight.

There are small, green-leaved trees surrounding the area. Down at the bottom of the hill is a stage with arena seating. As the seating goes up the hill, it turns to grass, and you see many couples and families laying out on it. Tom tugs your arm gently and you continue to walk toward the middle of the pathway. He finds a clear spot on the grass and lays out the blanket.

“Sit,” he says. You do, and he follows your lead.

“Are you going to tell me now?” you ask, poking him in the chest with your index finger. He chuckles and pokes your side. You squeal.

"This is an orchestra," he begins, gesturing to the stage below. He pulls something from the basket. "And this is a rose for my beautiful girlfriend." Your mouth gapes open, and he laughs, handing you the pretty flower. He hooks his finger under your chin, which results in your lips meeting in a sweet, open-mouth kiss. His lips are soft and almost cloud-like, while yours are covered in gloss. You pull away slowly when you hear little girls giggling at you nearby. You blush.

Tom pulls out your dinner from the basket, along with a bottle of champagne. The music starts while you’re eating, and once you’re finished you both lay on the blanket and look up at the night sky. Tom drums his fingers on your side to the beat of the music while you rest your head on his chest and close your eyes. You just listen. You can hear the music and Tom’s heart beat compete against the other in your head. You listen to him breathe, and you sync your breathing to his.

The concert goes on for an hour before the 20 minute intermission. You tell him you have to use the restroom, and you begin to saunter away up the hill when you hear Tom catching up behind you. He grabs your wrist and turns you around to face him. He looks down at you lovingly, placing a gentle kiss on your lips.

“I’ll come with you,” he smiles, almost smirking. You realize his intentions and smile inwardly to yourself. You follow him to the men’s bathroom.

He pulls you into a stall and locks the door. It’s very cramped, so the pair of you can’t do anything too rigorous. Instead, Tom just pulls you into a loving kiss. You can taste the champagne on his tongue as he slides it over your teeth. You moan softly into him. He gently rubs your mound with his palm, and you run your fingers through his hair. You both pull back for air, and he trails kisses up your neck to the space below your earlobe, all while he slides his hands beneath your leggings and panties.

He finds your clit and gives it a flick in a matter of seconds. You keen and clutch at him as he plays with you more. He's always so good at teasing you this way.

He nibbles at your ear and slides his index finger into you.

"Tom!" you cry out unabashedly. Who cares if anyone can hear? Your boyfriend is pleasuring you in a cramped bathroom stall because he loves you.

"Are you close?"

"Keep going..." you moan into his collar bone. Tom changes the angle of his finger and hits your sweet spot. You squeal and writhe as he lets you ride out the rest of your orgasm.

He licks his fingers clean and pulls you into a tight embrace. He kisses your forehead softer than an angel could.

You ask Tom to turn around so you can relieve yourself—what you wanted to do in the first place. Once you finish, Tom gets out of the stall first to make sure no men will see you. He signals for you to come out behind him. You both make a sneaky exit and return to your now chilly spot on the hill. You lay down together again, and Tom wraps his arms around you tightly.

"Je t'aime, ma petite chou chou," he whispers, almost inaudibly into your hair. You giggle at the literal translation but blush at the sentimental meaning of what Tom says. You love when he speaks French to you. He speaks it well, and his voice makes it ridiculously sinful to hear.

“Je t’aime aussi,” you breathe. As you lay with him, you keep your eyes closed and listen closely to the orchestra. You pick apart the instruments used in each song: strings, woodwinds, brass, piano, percussion. It’s all so beautiful and even more enjoyable since Tom is holding you close. You twiddle the stem of the rose in your fingers and bring it to your nose. It smells divine. You grin, hoping no one can see you. It is dark after all. You feel the pad of Tom’s finger brush against your bottom lip. Your eyes flutter open and Tom’s smiling eyes greet yours. You give a small smile back to him. You search each other’s face in silence.

He bends his neck to kiss your nose, but you meet him halfway with your lips.

As soon as the music started, it ended. Couples and families everywhere rise to clean up their places and leave. You move to sit up, but Tom’s arms are on either side of you as he presses his body firm against yours. You look up at him, confused.

“Let’s just wait for a while longer.” He rolls onto his back and you snuggle into his side. As the mass of people disperse, you lay in the comfort of your boyfriend’s strong arms. He is warm compared to the slight chill in the air.

Once the majority of the audience leaves, Tom helps you to your feet, and you help him clean up. As you make your way back to the car, someone recognizes Tom, much to your displeasure, and he smiles at her and signs the back of her phone case. Once she's out of earshot, you catch yourself complaining. Tom looks down at you and smiles.

“Someone’s jealous,” he teases. You jab him in the stomach, emitting a small “oof” from Tom. He kisses your temple as he reassures you that you have nothing to worry about. He opens your car door and lets you slide in before he takes his side; always the gentleman. You end up falling asleep on the way back to Tom’s flat, and he carries you inside once you arrive.

You wake up to him humming a tune from the orchestra as he twirls your hair in his fingers.


End file.
